


Re:Connect

by Scytinord



Series: Convergence [2]
Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Ambiguous Relationships, Bringing justice to a side character, But they are close, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Hope, Hurt/Comfort, It's generally on a happy note, Light Angst, M/M, Moving On, Past Character Death, and exploring heavy themes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-13
Updated: 2018-08-13
Packaged: 2019-06-26 19:53:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,277
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15670161
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Scytinord/pseuds/Scytinord
Summary: Hank takes Connor to visit his son.





	Re:Connect

**Author's Note:**

> To those who have loved and lost.

On a Tuesday afternoon, with endless blue skies overhead, a police car pulled up at the side of Detroit Cemetery. There was no marked entrance, and a gaping hole remained where a gate was once erected. Graveyards lined the fields, and their silhouettes continued on for as far as Connor could see. 

“We’re here.” Hank declared. He did not have to - Connor had his suspicions from the moment Hank quietly asked him to accompany him somewhere. So he had ushered Hank into the car, turned on the radio to country music, and let Hank have the wheel. The drive was short and quiet. But behind a silent facade, his mind twisted and churned like rough seas.

Over the course of the past year, Connor had come to realise that anniversaries were important, almost sacred, events to humanity. The coming of a new year was marked by jubilant celebration. Family and close friends were invited for birthdays. Most of these events were joyful ones, brimming with happiness. The anniversary of a loved one’s death, however, was a far cry from all of that.

“-you doing?”

Connor jerked upwards. Hank was already standing outside the car and levelling a puzzled glance at him. “Sorry!” He shouted back, hurriedly getting out of the car. He had to take longer strides to catch up with Hank. 

In the cemetery, rows and rows of tombstones greeted them, each bearing a name of the deceased. Connor did not believe in ghosts or otherworldly beings, but the atmosphere of the place was heavy, as though the dead could reach out from their resting beds and squeeze their hearts. Staring at the graves that they passed by only affirmed that thought. “In loving memory”, many tombstones began, as they talked about the end. A people’s life, whether it lasted one year or spanned a century, was condensed into a few short sentences. 

There were thousands of graves here. There were thousands of lives that had run out of time. Cole was one of them. Averting his eyes felt like the right thing to do.

Connor kept his head down and followed Hank as they moved further and further into the cemetery. They eventually stopped near one seemingly unremarkable grave, whose headstone was smaller than others and a much lighter shade of grey. There was a small pile of dirt on the stone stab of the grave. A quick analysis told Connor that they were the remains of a bouquet placed there years ago.

 

_Cole Anderson_

_-_

_23 September 2029_

_11 October 2035_

 

“Last time, was it you who placed the flowers?” Connor asked. Hank stood rigidly with head bowing, shoulders carrying the weight of the world.

His answering sigh was laced with bitterness. “The only other person that’s related to him couldn’t give a damn if she tried to. Why would she come here?” 

Connor chose not to probe him further. “Do you need some space?” He questioned instead. Hank jerked his head to the side. As Connor turned to leave, however, Hank raised a hand to stop him.

Blinking, Connor moved to Hank’s right side with no small amount of confusion. The duo stood there, facing Cole’s grave. From the corner of his eyes, Connor could see Hank’s eyebrows scrunched up, seemingly trying to organise his thoughts. After a long pause, Hank spoke slowly. 

“I am no idea why I brought you here. Just...give me a moment.” 

Silence returned. Connor closed his eyes. All he could offer Hank, in that moment, was undisturbed time. 

Hank finally spoke. 

“Cole was a good kid. Always so worried, that boy. _‘Dad, come home early.’_ He would say before I left for work every morning. He was too young to understand that the world didn’t operate like that. But he cared, my son.” 

Hank paused, and inhaled shakily, “And I could not give him the longer, happier life he deserved. ”

Connor had turned to face Hank. So many options swarmed in front of him, but Connor was at a loss for words. He had never met Cole. Back in the tower, when the stakes were high, he had told Hank that his son’s death was not his fault. A year of being at Hank’s side taught him that grief could not be mended over by such platitudes. Maybe they offered comfort, but moving on was so much more than that.

And really, what could Connor even say? Hank had brought him, an outsider, here to meet the last remnants of his family. If Connor still had his LED, it would had dipped into crimson red. Oblivious to Connor’s inner turmoil, Hank carried on speaking.

“The night of the accident, when it happened, Cole was so scared. He barely clinged onto consciousness in the ambulance. I told him it was okay, it would be over soon, like a nap. He just fell asleep and...never woke up. I didn’t want to face it for so long. Just got stupid-drunk and cried at home.”

That, Connor knew first-hand.

“You loved him.” 

It was a statement, a truth. An undeniable fact. Hank tilted his head back.  “I still do.” He corrected.

And then, Connor understood. He found the piece he had been missing from the big picture. 

Connor would never met Cole, the kid that was the love and joy of Hank’s life. Because of that, he felt that he could never understand the grief that came with his death in its entirely. But humans, they came year after year to their loved one’s grave not just to grieve, but to remember the person who had passed on. To have a conversation to them, as if they were standing side by side. To reconnect with what they had lost.

His mind set on a decision, Connor slowly got down on one knee, as he stretched out his right hand and placed it on the grave marker. He held out his other hand to Hank. When Hank did not take it, he turned around and stared at him expectantly.

“Your right hand, please.” Hank shot him a look of consternation, but did as he asked. With both hands in position, Connor mentally started the process. A spiderweb of electric blue erupted from his fingertips and crept over his hands and down his forearms. The cracks fissured to reveal the gleaming white underneath. Seeing the befuddlement written over Hank’s face, Connor squeezed his hand reassuringly.

“Now he knows.” Connor said. There was a beat of silence, before Hank’s previously grim face began to crumble. He turned back to face the headstone, now illuminated by a soft blue glow.

“Hi, Cole.” Connor said, keeping his voice gentle, steady and slow. “This is our first time meeting. My name is Connor. I’m an...I’m close to your dad. I just want you to know that you are, and will always be, remembered.”

Connor tried to smile. Something hurt inside. Maybe emotions really transcended the boundaries of time and space, or maybe they could not. Maybe they came from deep within him, fractured to life by his software instability. A byproduct in the process of becoming human.

There was the soft patter of tears falling onto the earth, and a dampness on his uniform sleeve. Sniffling could be heard from above him. But Connor still had a message to deliver. A few words left for him to say. He kept his palm flat on the stone and grasped Hank’s hand tightly. 

“Cole. **You are** **loved**.” He finally concluded. Hank finally broke down, his quiet sobs the only sound for miles around. Connor did the only thing he could, and held Hank's hand all the way through.

**Author's Note:**

> Hank was...in a bad state after Cole's death, which could never be reversed. In this fic, I tried my best to explore Connor's changing perspective towards death. It may not be the most...accurate way of looking at it, but it is Connor's way. :)


End file.
